


Voices

by MaryyJayy



Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Dave | Technoblade and Wilbur Soot and TommyInnit are Siblings, Dave | Technoblade-centric, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Mentioned Jschlatt (Video Blogging RPF), Mentioned Toby Smith | Tubbo, Mentioned TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Mentioned Wilbur Soot, Parent Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Sad Dave | Technoblade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:02:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27961208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaryyJayy/pseuds/MaryyJayy
Summary: Technoblade has always heard voices, they have been a constant in his life. If he looks back, he can’t clearly remember a time without the voices. They had become something normal in his life.OrTechno loses himself to voices in his head and becomes the Blood God.
Relationships: Dave | Technoblade & Jschlatt, Dave | Technoblade & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Dave | Technoblade & Toby Smith | Tubbo, Dave | Technoblade & TommyInnit, Dave | Technoblade & Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit & Phil Watson
Comments: 20
Kudos: 351





	Voices

_But everything goes away_   
_Yeah everything goes away_   
  
_But I'm going to be here until I'm nothing_   
_But bones in the ground_

Technoblade has always heard voices, they have been a constant in his life. If he looks back, he can’t clearly remember a time without the voices. They had become something normal in his life.

In a way, they were his first friend. They provided companionship and comfort in the loneliest and deadliest of places. And no matter what, they never once abandoned him. They were probably the one thing that had prevented him from going insane during the time he spent alone in the nether.

However, he can clearly remember the first time that the voices pushed him to do something evil. Usually, the voices were a quiet whisper, often not making much of any sense. It was like quiet background noise. Sometimes they’d whisper that something looked pretty, and they’d urge him to take it. It’s how he got his crown; the voices guided him to it.

But one time, he ended up getting into a fight with some other piglins. Usually, they never cared much for his presence, but for some strange reason, they had decided to gang up on him. It was a fight that he did not think that he was prepared for.

And then suddenly, as if there was some sort of awakening, the voices began to scream at him. They were screaming for blood, violence, and destruction. When he hesitated to engage in a fight, they simply pushed his control aside and moved his body for him. It was like being possessed; he didn’t like it very much.

In a matter of seconds, the entire group of piglin lay slaughtered, and the blood was on his hands. He hadn’t even known that he could fight like that. And the voices went back to whispers, sounding much happier than before.

It was such an unpleasant experience that he decided to do whatever the voices asked of him. He’d rather kill things himself than let the voices do it for him. Not that he enjoyed killing things, he actually hated it a lot. But he hated it more when the voices yelled at him.

Eventually, he began to decipher some of the things that they whispered about. The common theme that they whispered about was The Blood God. Usually, they’d just whisper about death and fire, but in the times that they demanded blood, they always spoke of the Blood God. _Blood for the Blood God,_ they’d hiss. He wasn’t sure if they were the Blood God, or if he was. He's not sure which answer he'd prefer.

But the older he got and the more time went on, the more and more they demanded from him. They went from demanding blood once in a blue moon to demanding it every other day. It was overwhelming, and it was worse when he couldn’t provide what they wanted.

Ever since he got adopted by Phil, he had to be careful of when and what he was killing. Especially with having Wilbur as a very attached older brother, and Tommy as an attached younger brother, he couldn’t do anything without being watched. It drove the voices crazy, and he felt like he was being torn apart.

He still managed though. He slew mass amounts of mobs in the name of the Blood God, but it never seemed to be enough. In the middle of the night, they’d try and convince him to kill his family. They just wanted blood. More and more.

He tried everything to calm the voices down. He killed more and more, but then in return, they just wanted more and more. He tried joining a peaceful potato war in hopes of finding some peace. It was quiet for a bit, but they were always there. Sometimes a stranger would pass by his farm, and the voices would go crazy. _Blood for the Blood God. Kill them. Kill them all._

And when the request came in his communicator from his brothers to help them in a rebellion, he very much did not want to join, but the voices did. Rebellion meant blood, rebellion was something that he could get behind. And besides, he had promised to be there for his brothers.

At some point, the days started to blur together. The rebellion wasn’t as much of a rebellion as the voices and he thought it was going to be. There was barely any fighting, and everyone was oddly nice. There was an itch burning underneath his skin, one that only blood could cure.

Everything began to seem strangely out of focus. He couldn't tell if the voices were in control, or if he was. And then suddenly Jschlatt was calling on him, asking him to slay Tubbo. Of course, he didn’t want to, but the voices were ecstatic. Finally, bloodshed.

And he lost control.

Not only did he kill Tubbo, but he also killed everyone who was around. Multiple times. And he didn’t even know he was doing it, he wasn’t acting on his own. It was like someone was pulling the strings and he was just a puppet.

No one understood. They thought he was a monster. But it wasn’t him. He wasn’t the one killing people. It was never him.

Tommy and him fought in the pit. It was the hardest he had ever fought to keep control. The voices screeched at him to strangle Tommy, slice him up. He wanted so badly to run and never come back. He was a danger to everyone around him.

Everything was tumbling further and further out of his control, and it wasn’t helping that Wilbur had seemingly gone nuts. The only thing keeping him together was the fact that they were going to fight Schlatt soon. But even then, it seemed like mostly everyone was on the same side as him.

When the day of the rebellion came, the voices started screeching louder than ever. There was going to be blood no matter what. No matter whose blood it was.

And his predictions came true, there was no fight from Schlatt. There was no blood spilling. Even worse, a new government was getting set up right before his eyes. He had come here for this?! He had left his peaceful potato farm just to be betrayed and ignored by his family?

The itch became a burn, and it felt like he was back in the nether. Except, these were people that he cared about. He didn't want to kill these people. 

There was a fleeting moment where everything seemed to slow down. Techno tried his best, fist clenched with his nails digging into his palm. He fought the hardest that he ever had to keep control. But the voices knew that he had withers, that he had weapons.

He remembers the look on Tommy’s face when he spawned the withers, when he made his grand speech. His dad appeared out of nowhere, and he wondered if his dad could tell that he wasn’t in control. 

There was screaming and crying, and the withers were busy blowing things up. But most importantly there was blood. Everywhere. It was so nice. The coppery smell was so sweet, he wanted to coat himself in it.

But he saw the looks his family was giving him, and he saw his dead brother. And he knew that this was the end of the line. He had gone too far. The voices pushed him across the line, and this time there was no coming back.

_It’s okay,_ the voices tried to comfort him, _you only need us. And blood._

He ran away, not sparing his family a second glance. And it was just like the beginning. The voices and him. Alone. 

There was nothing left for him to fight for. It was all gone, every last thing that he had cared about. So what was the point? What was the point of fighting the voices anymore? They were the last thing he had. 

_That's right,_ the voices agreed, _we are one. We are the Blood God._

Many years down the line, a tale of the Blood God came to exist. A vicious pig-man who craved violence in all forms. Supposedly, his eyes were the same deep red as blood, and he always wore a crown. No one's sure where or when the fable started, but one thing is for sure, anyone who lived to see him never lived to tell the story. 

**Author's Note:**

> Back at it with the angst! Or at least attempted angst! I feel like this was less angsty than I was hoping for it to be :(


End file.
